Sharpay's view
by peterpancomplex
Summary: Sharpay's view on manners, associates, family, and life. A collection of oneshots from a semiAU of my making.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I am not Disney, I own no one.

The Wildcats are idiots. I am not mean, and I don't understand why they all seem to think that I am. There are so many things that I could say or that I could do that would destroy them but never do because it would be going too far. They don't seem to get just how much power I could have over them, how much power I _do_ have over them.

"_Hey, Sharpay! There's this new move I want to show you."_

Take Martha for example. Do I make fat jokes? No. I never comment on her weight or subtly ask whether or not she really thinks it's a good idea to have _another_ cookie. I've never told anyone about her little eating problems from when she was younger either. I even keep quite on how Martha had transferred here sophomore year after spending two years at some exclusive fat camp/high school because of said problems. Why? I'm not mean like that.

"_Oh, um, h-hey, Sharpay."_

Then there's Troy Bolton, East High's golden boy extraordinaire. What **was** I thinking? He is way too easy to manipulate, could be used against me. I digress, what did I ever do that was so mean to him, seriously? I gave him with expensive clothes, I flirted, I gave him a **scholarship** on a sliver platter, and he left me to crash and burn at the talent show. But I didn't do anything to get back him, I let it go. I could have broken his little heart by simply telling him how _impressed_ I was with how close he was to his 'parents' even though he was adopted, but I didn't. He doesn't know he's adopted and it would kill him to find out. See, nice.

"_Hi, isn't it a beautiful morning?"_

Gabriella, practically perfect in every way, Montez. God, is she ever a Mary Poppins knock off or what? I wonder if people would think she was so perfect if they knew that her father was in prison. Not just her father either, her uncle too. That's the real reason they kept moving. The people in their old neighborhoods found out that they have murders in their family and ran them out. I don't judge her based on who her father and uncle are or what they did, because that would be wrong. I am never wrong.

"_Do I even want to ask if you did your part of the project?"_

If there is one thing my parents taught me it's that it is one thing to flaunt your wealth and another to mock the poor. I have money and I don't intend to apologize for it, but that doesn't mean that I insult people for _not_ having it. The McKessie family can barely pay its rent, it's not funny and it's not something that is well known. No matter what she calls me or what she insinuates about me, I will never be the one to tell people about her situation. I am an Evans and I have _class_.

_"What, princess? No sirloin steak for lunch today?"_

_"Hey, sis. How was math?"_

Ryan and Chad; yes, they get listed together. Chad now counts as family as annoying as he is. Ryan may only be seventeen but once he makes up his mind that's it, come hell or high water Chad is here to stay. It could be worse, contrary to what those Wildcats think Chad, while not at the level of an Evans, comes from money. With one or two well placed words he's got all of them thinking that he's a regular middle-class kid like them; though, I don't understand _why_ he wants them to think that. I don't know what he told them about the new Mercedes his parents got him; I'm sure it was an interesting conversation. Chad is still in the closet and I've never said anything around the others that would imply he's anything but straight. Ryan, well, his flame burns bright; no need to say anything more about him, but if _anyone_ does say something they'd have to go through me.

Except for Taylor, who had played beard for Chad last year, none of the others know about their relationship. They don't see how it's any of their business, thought they won't lie about it if asked. The Wildcats have all come over to our house once or twice; each time Chad's gone around the kitchen with ease and given directions to the bathroom before either Ryan or myself could respond. None of them have ever wondered how it is that he knows our place so well. Except for keeping it to the bedroom, I will forever cherish dad's expression when he found out that Ryan had to get a new bed after _somehow_ breaking his, they haven't exactly been subtle so I can't figure out why the others haven't noticed. Of course, there is the fact that Wildcats are idiots who for some reason think that I'm mean.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I am not Disney, I own no one.

"You broke it?"

"God, yes! How many times are you going to ask me that?"

"Ryan…you _broke _your _bed_. I'd ask how but considering how smug Chad looks I don't think I really want to know, but, Ryan, you _broke_ your _bed_! We don't have cheap furniture and, god, what are you going to tell mom and dad?" As Ryan opened his mouth to answer my question the door bell sounded. He snapped his mouth shut then pointed toward the door.

"Ask and you shall receive. That would be the movers; they'll take that bed away then bring the new one in. No one will ever know."

"I don't think I've ever been so proud of you in my life."

"Thank you. Now come on." The three of us marched to the front of the house and I hung back watching as Ryan gave the movers instructions then had Chad lead them to the room. I leaned back against the wall and contemplated this particular event. Earlier in the morning, Ryan and I had been on the porch swing making plans for Julliard when Chad had speed into the driveway. He jumped out of his dark green Mercedes and ran up to us. He quickly pecked me on the cheek then grabbed Ryan and proceeded to drag him into the house. Four hours later, I have one brother with a perpetual blush, another with a self-satisfied smirk, and a broken bed. I'm blond not stupid.

"What was the occasion?"

"Occasion?" A new voice asked, a very specific, very male voice. Ryan froze, paled, then slowly turned to face the one person he probably really didn't want to see at that moment.

"Dad! What are you doing home?" Just as he asked dad the movers started carrying the three legged bed down the stairs. I love my brother, but this was going to be beautiful.

"Ryan, why are they taking your bed and why is it missing a leg?" I hadn't known my brother could get so pale, I wondered if it was very healthy then focused on dad's expression as he noticed Chad standing behind the movers. While my family has never actually talked about it we have always known about Ryan. When Chad had started coming around, taking Ryan out Fridays and Saturdays, and joining the family for Sunday brunch, we all accepted it for what it was. Ryan had a boyfriend; more importantly he had one that made him happy which made us happy. Dad's eyebrows shot up and his eyes widened; Ryan was too busy panicking to really notice.

"It broke. I'm getting a new one." Ryan's right leg started to twitch and I noticed that dad's did too. I'd have to remember that for the next family poker game.

"Right. Well, I see that you have everything under control, that is, I mean, right..." I have got to get Jose Luis to make me a copy of this from the security tapes.

"Chad got into Columbia. So he'll be going with us to New York in the fall." Oh my, well, that explains the bed.

"That's wonderful. We should celebrate. I'll call your mother and give her the news." Dad quickly scurried away, face bright red. The movers came back in carrying Ryan's new bed and Chad followed them up. Ryan and I stood side by side watching them maneuver the king size furniture. Then, without turning to face each other we spoke.

"You know how I broke the bed."

"Yes."

"Dad knows how I broke the bed."

"Yes."

"You're going to want details."

"Oh, yes." Sometimes, I really love being a twin.


	3. Chapter 3

Hi. Thank you for reading so far. I just wanted to thank poppyfields13, Jerico Cacaw, SammyBN, and happymoombrain for reviewing. You guys are the reason I'm going to try to keep updating this thing. Oh, and Poppyfields13? She knew all those things for a very specific reason, now I don't want to give it away, but I'll let you pick apart of it and make it the next chapter. So Sharpay, Vance, or Mother Evans?

* * *

"You can't wear Manolo Blahniks on a first date, period." I was really starting to get annoyed. He had shot down five pairs of shoes already.

"Why not? Their fabulous, magnificent, the best-"

"They say 'I'm a sexy beast'. Is that the kind of message you want to send out on the first date? He'll think your planning to put out or something."

"Manolo Blahnik shoes do not same 'I'm a sexy beast'. That's so crass and beneath them; they would say 'I'm alluring and mysterious; come and bask in my presence'."

"Different words, same message; 'I'm easy'." He did not just say that about my Manolo Blahniks. How dare he, it's practically blasphemy.

"That's rich coming from you. You didn't make it half way through your first date before you two ended up in the backseat. Besides, boys don't speak shoe."

"One, that's none of your business, two, _straight_ boys may not speak shoe but you _do_. Your outfit reflects your state of mind. Every detail is important. You are not leaving this house in those shoes for a first date, you save them for when you want to make your move." I hate it when he's right.

"Then what should I wear? How about my Christian Louboutins?"

"Those are for Paris and Broadway, not the movies in Albuquerque."

"True. My JimmyChoos?"

"What are you, a desperate housewife? Next."

"Listen you shoe Nazi, stop insulting my shoes."

"You're the one that needs help, not me. Besides, I'm not insulting your shoes; I'm stating facts. Now, next!"

"I give up. If you're so smart and all-knowing, why don't you tell me what to wear?"

"About time you asked. You should wear your black Prada shoes. The ones with the black and red stones on the front."

"Wait, my Manolo Blahniks are too sexy for a first date, but the Pradas aren't. That's a double standard."

"No, it's not. Manolo Blahniks are all about sex appeal, Prada is about power. You wear Prada when you are the one in charge, when you make the decisions, and on the first date that is definitely the message you want to have."

"I go to take a quick shower and I come back to find my boyfriend lecturing my sister about shoes? Has the world gone mad?" We both turn to door to see my brother Ryan standing there leaning against the frame, then immediately ignore him to go back to our argument. After all, these are _shoes_ we're arguing about here.

"Don't look so smug. And how do you know so much about shoes anyway? Should I put a lock on my closet when you come to visit from now on, because your feet are too big to fit in _my_ shoes."

"Four older sisters, Sharpay. I've heard the first-date-shoe debate so many times I have the thing engraved in my mind. So just wear the Prada, go out with Zeke because God knows that you've been leading him on long enough, then come back and interrupt _my _date with Ryan to tell him and subsequently me all the details and analyze them to determine Zeke's exact state of mind in regards to every aspect of the date. I bought some Cookies n' Cream on the way over." Okay, so maybe he has gone through this a few times. Just then we hear a loud knock on the door.

"That's him! Get out, I have to finish getting ready. Out, out, out!" I slam the door in their faces, gracefully of course, and then run to get the Prada heels that Chad picked out. He might not do too badly as a brother-in-law after all.


End file.
